She doesn’t know me

But she understands me.

She tells me my blog is “meticulous smut,” and within three minutes of her first message, writes, “It’s like you couldn’t decide whether to be a sex addict or OCD so you split the difference.”

And then… then…

She tells me my blog reminds her of a scene in “No Country for Old Men” – a movie I haven’t seen.

E: So it centers around this complete psychopathic killer
N: Like me!
E: And there’s this scene where he’s telling this man that he’s going to kill him because he said he would, if he didn’t comply w xyz… and there’s this feeling that he doesn’t want to do it for whatever reason but the whole thing has its own morality…that even this murderer has infrastructure that adheres to some moral organization. It only reminded me to the extent that content and form are independent.

I read this twice, and reply:

N: Right. You DEFINITELY need to suck my cock. Smile Speaking with respect both to the form and the content of our communication this far.


Postscript: This last message from me cemented it for her. She was just telling me her reaction to my blog. Not interested in me. At. All.

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